


It Starts With a Shake

by qhuinn (tekla)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon, M/M, based on 207's prev
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-06
Updated: 2012-07-06
Packaged: 2017-11-09 06:41:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/452458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tekla/pseuds/qhuinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on epsiode 207's preview. So no real spoilers, only speculation.</p><p>No wolf is an island forever. When Erica ends up mortally wounded, Stiles catches Derek in a moment where he can't exactly cope on his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Starts With a Shake

**Author's Note:**

> 08/31. Updated with a new edited version. Special thanks to [falbet](http://falbet.tumblr.com/). <3

Something is seriously wrong with Erica.

A weird bullet meant for the Kanima hit her and now she’s... well, she’s dying. There’s no other way to say it.

Stiles ends up holding her while Derek tries the same thing they did when the Argents shot him with that wolfsbane bullet, and she seems to calm down. Which is good, because Stiles doesn’t know if he could have managed much more of it.

The moment she stops screaming and thrashing around, Derek moves her to a pile of mattresses they keep in the abandoned station. And after making sure she’s fine, he slips away and drops on his knees in a corner, facing away from them.

Scott sits next to Erica and tries to soothe her when she seems to stir a bit. That bullet was meant for him and Stiles knows the guilt must be eating him inside.

Then Scott looks alertly at Derek and Stiles knows he can't see what his friend is seeing. So he just gets closer and kneels next to him.

"He's shaking," Scott says hoarsely.

"Who? Derek?" Stiles looks at the man but can't see anything.

"Go talk to him," Scott says, concentrated again on Erica and her irregular breathing.

"Me? Why me?"Stiles kind of squeals. "He doesn't even like me."

"Just go, Stiles. I can't leave her. Go."

So Stiles frowns and makes the face he usually does when Scott pulls the bros card and he has to do something he really, truly doesn't want to do. And as he grimaces, he goes to Derek and kneels next to him, leaving a considerable space between them.

"Derek?" He says when the alpha doesn't seem to notice him. "You okay?"

Derek shakes his head, and Stiles can see his red flashing eyes before he closes them, fisting his hands so hard tendons and muscles pop all the way up his arms and neck.

And Stiles gets it. He totally does. Because he's been there with Lydia when Peter Hale sent her to the hospital. And no matter what he may say sometimes, he doesn't like seeing people suffer or, you know, die.

So he moves a step closer and places a hand on Derek's shoulder. And maybe this is the most awkward situation he has ever been in, and he knows that coming from him is big. He is aware of it. But it totally is.

Even more awkward than spending two hours inside a pool holding a paralyzed, wet werewolf. That’s funny, because Stiles had actually been sure that incident would top the list of his _just let me die_ moments. But voilà. And anyway, why is Derek always involved somehow?

He doesn't know if he should pat or rub or just leave his hand there, limp and damp with sweat. And oh my god, he's starting to freak out. What if Derek rips his throat out? What if he goes crazy and kills him?

Stiles is imagining all the horrible things Derek could usually do on a good day and how he's screwed because this is not by _far_ a good day, when Derek shakes his shoulder and turns away, leaving Stiles oddly disappointed. That’s it? No growling? No cruel comments? No fangs up in his face?  
Which makes him realize how badly all this is affecting Derek. And that’s why, even knowing he’s pretty much signing his own death sentence, he speaks up.

“You know,” he clears his throat. “You’re not alone; you don’t have to deal with this crap on your own.”

And he’s proud to say he only hesitates a moment before moving his hand back over Derek’s wired, tense shoulder. He braces himself, ready for the snarl and the fangs and _oh god, please don’t let there be blood_.

But Derek just cringes almost imperceptibly for a heartbeat and then he’s relaxing against his touch, allowing him to do this... This awkward attempt at cheering up a very sour wolf. Or whatever.

"It's okay," Stiles croaks out. "She'll be fine."

Derek drops his head and turns toward him, and Stiles has only a moment to register what’s going on before Derek is pressing his forehead against his shoulder.

It's a small touch, really. Merely no pressure at all. Their bodies are still technically separated by a distance, too. But man, he was wrong thinking it was awkward before. _This_ is awkward.

He’s never seen Derek like this. He isn’t even sure what’s scarier, angry Derek or this version of him. But then Derek sighs against his shoulder and he decides to go with the rubbing, because damn, it seems appropriate seeing how Derek is showing real, true emotions for once.

But there is a problem. Derek moved toward him, and now he can't rub his shoulder, so he kind of has to embrace the werewolf, very awkwardly, to reach his other shoulder. Could his life get any weirder than this? Cuddling with Derek, try to top _that_ , universe. Or not. Better not.

"I didn't know you liked Erica this much," he says, because he's Stiles and he can't be quiet for long. And because when he's nervous he tends to babble even more than usual. And because hey, Derek liking someone? He didn't see that one coming. At all.

Derek snorts at that. "Don't be ridiculous."

"It's cool, man." Stiles pats his shoulder. "I mean, sure, yeah, she's younger than you. And a bit scary. But I guess you dig that. Scary and hot. Hawt. The whole werewolf thing is looking good on her. Very good.Great, actually. So it's cool. I get it."

Derek surprises him when he huffs.

"Stiles," he talks against his shoulder. "It's not like that, at all. She's pack, we're family."

"Oh," Stiles is dumbfounded. "You sure?"

Derek snorts and rubs his face against Stiles' shoulder absently. "I'm sure. And I don't _dig_ scary, either." He says in a tone that seems to be making fun of Stiles. Nothing new, really.

Stiles laughs awkwardly at that. Well, _fuck_. What is he supposed to say to that? He doesn't really want to know what Derek digs. Just in case he says _killing small animals_ or _sucking on bones_.

"Okay," he licks his lips nervously. "Uh, believe me, I understand not being into scary. I totally do. So ’s fine."

Derek turns his face in Stiles’ shoulder and stares at him and Stiles suddenly feels like a small animal facing the big bad wolf. No me gusta of epic proportions right there.

He clears his throat. Twice. “I mean, she’s definitely too young for you. You’re right. Pack is important. Let’s just forget I ever said anything and—”

Stiles will deny this until the day he dies, but when Derek’s hand moves to his throat, he may have squealed a little. Warm fingers find his frantic pulse, and even when the pressure is barely a brush against his neck, it’s enough to make his heart jump in his throat.

“Age difference means nothing in the pack,” Derek breathes out, dropping his hand a second later.

And then he’s moving away and Stiles can feel his shoulder and arm tingling in a very odd way.

Stiles is about to speak, most surely to make things worse, when Derek lifts his face and their eyes meet and Stiles forgets to think. Maybe even to breathe. For a second or two only.Nothing big.Nothing to really think about later whenever he has a moment of solitude and freak the fuck out about.

Because Derek parts his lips and he leans an inch closer and suddenly Stiles is having weird and crazy ideas, like Derek wanting to kiss him. And he must be totally wrong. Like, the wrongest a person could ever be. And why isn’t he freaking out _more_?

“She’s waking up!” Scott yells from the other end of the room.

And Derek is not there anymore.

Stiles is finally able to breathe and he’s definitely not freaking out. Because nothing happened to make him freak out. Nothing at all. Nope.

He shakes his shoulders, rubbing the one Derek used as pillow, and flails his arm around a bit.  
And by the time he reaches the others, he’s determined to ignore whatever just happened with Derek until it eventually goes away.


End file.
